


Cultural Appreciation

by jkateel



Series: The Hunted [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 19:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1561748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jkateel/pseuds/jkateel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><strong>AU of an AU:</strong> It's Cultural Appreciation Day at Dean's school. Who knew angels were so weird?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cultural Appreciation

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm writing this SPN story called [_The Hunted_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1447786/chapters/3047170). It's set in a world where humans co-exist with angels, vampires, demons, werewolves, etc.; however, there are no supernatural/magical elements. 
> 
> I really like this world, and I love playing around in it. There are some parts of the world I can't explore in _The Hunted_ because of where it's set, which is what inspired this story. It's basically an AU of an AU. 
> 
> This story has no relation to _The Hunted._ Hope you like it!

Dean did not know what to make of the angel: the bright blue eyes, the large black wings, the tight leggings, the sheer shirt that did nothing to hide the Enochian-like symbols on his torso and arms. They were traditional Jannahian host markings, Dean knew that much, but normal for angels or not, it was like nothing he had ever seen before.

 _You're not from Kansas, that's for sure,_ he thought. At least the angel didn't seem to mind that he was staring. Not that he had done much since their two classes had been paired off in the school auditorium, one human to one angel. He had merely regarded Dean with those really blue eyes, entire body completely still. He didn't blink; Dean wasn't even sure he was breathing. It was almost supernatural how utterly immobile he was.  _Definitely not from Kansas,_  Dean thought again.

From the bleachers, the adult angel in the group lifted a hand, saying something Dean didn't catch. He did hear Principal Hendricksen though.

"Be nice," he said, the warning in his voice, "Remember, it's Cultural  _Appreciation_  Day."

Dean glanced back at his angel, jumping a little when he suddenly lifted his hand out. "I am Castiel, of the Anges Host. It is a pleasure to meet you."

 _He sounds like a robot,_ Dean thought, habit making him reach out to take the angel's hand. "Uh," he mumbled, "My name's Dean. Dean Winchester."

He noticed after a moment that they hadn't actually shaken hands — they were still standing there, arms out, hands grasped, but doing nothing else. Dean felt his cheeks heat up despite himself, the urge to jerk his arm away almost overwhelming.  _I'm holding hands with an angel — abort, abort,_ he thought frantically, but the panic was cut off when the angel cocked his head to one side. It was so odd a sight that Dean froze, completely bewildered.

"Are you ill, Dean Winchester?" he asked, a question that threw Dean just as much as the head tilt.

"Uhh, what?" he managed, after a moment.

"Your cheeks are flushed," the angel said in the same monotone voice. "I have read that illness is one of the reasons humans can have flushed cheeks."

"What,  _no,_ I'm fine." Dean gave in, and jerked his arm away. The angel didn't even seem to notice, his eyes never leaving Dean's face. Feeling his cheeks grow hotter, Dean's voice broke when he stammered out, "I-It's… It's nothing."

"Oh," the angel said, while Dean swallowed. He hoped that the rumor about angels having super-hearing wasn't true, because his heart was going off like a jackhammer in his chest. His hands were sweaty too, and he clenched them into fists at his side.

Again, the angel appeared not to notice, his head resuming its normal position, before he nodded once. "I am pleased to hear you are not ill," he said in his same low tone.

 _This is so weird,_ Dean thought. Was this how Cultural Appreciation Day was supposed to go? He had been thrilled when their school had been picked to meet the teenage angels of the Agnes host — the first school in the  _country_ to be picked — but nothing had prepared him for how  _different_  they were. It hadn't been like this with the vampires, or the werewolves. Had it?

He glanced around, glad to see he wasn't the only human in the room with a confused face. All the angels looked the same though — weirdly blank.

"Uh," he said, after the silence had gone on for too long (not that Castiel acknowledged it). Desperate for a topic, Dean gestured at the angel's chest. "Nice, errm, tattoos."

Of all things, that was the last thing Dean expected Castiel to react to. His wings spread out a little, his eyes narrowing slightly. Dean didn't know that was a good sign until Castiel held out an arm to show him the other markings. They seemed to glow under the auditorium lights.

"These are my host markings," Castiel explained, tracing long fingers up his arm. Dean found himself following the movement. "They tell of my lineage in the host."

Dean frowned at that. "You tattoo your family's history on your body?"

"It is ceremonial paint, only for rituals or events such as this," Castiel corrected, and Dean lifted his eyebrows in amazement. That was  _paint?_

"Did you do it yourself?" he asked incredulously, growing astonished when Castiel gave another nod. "Whoa, that's  _awesome,"_ he said without thinking.

Castiel reacted to that too. His eyes narrowed once more; his wings spread again. It was weird, but the angel seemed happy — if someone could be happy without smiling or moving much. Dean wasn't entirely sure, and he frowned when Castiel stepped forward then. The feathers on his wings did some weird puffy thing, and the angel's eyes fell to Dean's chest. Then, with the slightest inflection in his voice, he said, "Your shirt is awe-some."

Dean glanced at his shirt — his dad's old Led Zeppelin shirt that was two sizes too big for him, but he loved wearing it anyway. "You like Zepp?" he asked, looking up at Castiel again.

The angel's eyes were really friggin' blue, Dean noticed. They scrunched up once more in the angel's pleased expression. His wings flexed, and he nodded.

"I do. They are one of my favorite human vocalist groups. My favorite of their works is  _Ramble On._ "

Dean grinned. Okay, maybe angels weren't so weird after all.


End file.
